a poem by my good friend Aidy Ringer

The winter through is tough to make
The moneys tight, we’ve thirsts to slake.

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The numbers never do add up
Leaving us with half filled cups
Pockets empty wallets bereft
A pile of coppers is all that’s left

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A superhero thankfully floats
A saviour to those in boats
Brings all in need coal and gas
He’s up and down, a dusty flash.